


Polygonia interrogationis

by cosmickaiju



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Introspection, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 18:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15249072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickaiju/pseuds/cosmickaiju
Summary: It's one of those fragments of time she wants to hold onto forever, a few moments of tranquility in the whirlwind of life with the Doctor.





	Polygonia interrogationis

There’s this look in their eyes that they get sometimes, something deep and unfathomable and distinctly alien, something she can never seem to quite capture in her drawings. Sometimes, she thinks, between the things they say, and the things they don’t, not even their body properly captures the depths— that their eyes are just the briefest glimpse of the real them that’s lurking inside. 

She wants to meet that version of them one day— properly, not just the tiny fleeting moments, like little block-transfer butterflies seeping out of their skin momentarily, before fleeing again. It’d do them good to show themselves, their true colors (blues and greens of excitement and wonder, muddled with somber greys, and sharp, harsh reds, would be a beginning, she thinks). 

But she’s learned that’s not them, they don’t do the whole opening up thing, certainly not on purpose. So she settles for the brief moments that do come, when they let down their guard just a bit, when they think no one's looking— when they talk about nothing, but at least there’s meaning there, in what they don’t say.

On one such occasion, they’ve landed themselves in some sort of sprawling amusement park, a cacophony of shouts and lights and music. They usher the lot of them out of the TARDIS (her, Cindy, Cleo, Noobis), tugging on their coat, dropping some tokens seemingly materialized from nowhere into each of their companions hands in turn. After a quick explanation, they gesture widely out at the chaos around them ( leaving the TARDIS tucked into a corner behind some ride or another). 

‘Go on then, free rein of the place—!’ 

The Doctor seems to think the rest of them are gonna rush off at this, eager to explore, leave them to do whatever it is they do in this sort of instance (mope or get in some sort of trouble with the law are the two most likely options, she thinks). Instead, she tugs their arm, one of the others pushing them from behind. 

‘Not so fast mister, you’re having some fun with us before you go off and foil whatever alien scheme you’ve actually landed us here for.’

‘I haven’t— I’ve not— and even if I had, which, I haven’t, mind you— alien plot foiling is plenty of fun.’ Their protests trail off fairly quickly, as the group continues leading them towards some precarious looking ride. 

Later, after a wait in line (during which they’d been immensely fidgety), once they’re off the ride, she chances a glance at one those photos they always take midride. They’re all grinning in excitement, even the Doctor— and there’s something about their face that makes her think this one is genuine, or almost completely so. She sneaks back and buys a copy, when the Doctor’s distracted by the others and some ridiculous cotton candy spinning contraption. It’s still only a tiny, inconsequential little fraction of them— but she wants to hold it close regardless.

It’s later still, when the crowds are dwindling, (when a simple, easy little alien plot had been thwarted), when they’re all gathered at some little fair game booth that’s always rigged (though the Doctor had been suspiciously adept at it), that she catches them staring off into the distance with a vacant expression. She nudges them with an elbow, and they blink down at her, jerking just the slightest bit in surprise. 

“Penny for your thoughts?’

‘Oh, nothing important, just reminded of days long since past— I’m glad I’m here with you lot, though.’ 

They look down at her then, and there’s a warmth in their eyes, something deep blue and warm gold, embracing her very being, that makes her believe them— that this isn’t solely an attempt to brush off her questions. She thinks, as exciting as it is, as exciting as she knows they find it, they could use more days like these— days without deadly alien threats, without anger, without unnecessary deaths that she can see boil their blood and then freeze in their veins (if they’ve even got those). Days where they can let their guard down, just a bit, let those real butterflies of theirs flutter free, for a few fleeting moments.


End file.
